Cash on the Barrelhead
by Matrix Refugee
Summary: Sequel to "The Shadows Between the Neon" After Joe is resold Cecie does everything she can to find the green-eyed Mecha that she loves... and the journey leads her to some odd places... COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1 of 3

+J.M.J.+

TITLE: "Cash on the Barrelhead"

AUTHOR:  "Matrix Refugee"

RATING: PG-13 (subject matter, angst)

ARCHIVE: Permission granted

FEEDBACK: Pleasepleasepleaseplease!

DISCLAIMER: Nope, I don't own "A.I.", which belongs to DreamWorks, Steve, Stan, Warner Brothers, et al. If I had any right to the film, there would be a spin-off TV series of it now.

NOTES: This is a rather experimental fic consisting mostly of journal fragments, IM transcripts, newspaper clippings, all sorts of stuff like that. I noticed my fics have been getting long-winded, so in order to avoid this error, I decided to write this cap-off to the series in this very bare-bones format. It's not quite as comic as the first three installments, which might have something to do with the fact that I was reading the novelization of the movie "Road to Perdition" about the same time I was drafting this, which could explain the angst-laden quality to this fic. But there again this is the beta-version of another fic, intended to be the cap-off, which would have, like this version, rooted Cecie's story into the film. But the original had such a downer ending that I just couldn't bear to inflict it on you folks.

SUMMARY: When Joe is resold, Cecie does everything she can to stay close to him.

I: Notice for private auction, Rouge City _Broadsheet_, 5 November 2165

For sale by owner through private auction, 11 November 2165:

Four Lover-Model Mechas

2 Female 2 Male

--Simulate City JN-8523 "Jane" Five feet, six inches tall, violet black chin-length hair, sapphire blue eyes. Age appearance, about 21 

--Simulate City C-8491 "Callie" Four feet, three inches tall, blonde hair, brown eyes. Age appearance, 19 Bubbly personality

--Belladerma R-06251 "Ruggiero" Six feet even, black hair, brown eyes, olive skin. Age appearance, about 40. Default Italian accent

--Companionates JO-4672 "Joe" Five feet ten inches tall, default black hair, green eyes. Default south London accent. Age appearance, about 25. Expert dancer all styles.

By appointment only. Sex traders ONLY. Contact Raymond Flyte at Sapphire Enterprises.

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II: Transcript of an IM, Frank Sweitz ("HeroicReporter23") to Cecie Martin ("RougeCityCecie") 6 November

HeroicReporter23: you read the business section of the _Broadsheet_?

RougeCityCecie: No, too R-rated to say the least. Why?

HeroicReporter23: there's an ad I'm not sure you want to see.

RougeCityCecie: What? …Where? 

HeroicReporter23: page 26

RougeCityCecie: AFK ::getting newspaper:: 

HeroicReporter23: find it? 

HeroicReporter23: talk to me. 

HeroicReporter23: Cecie?

RougeCityCecie: here 

HeroicReporter23: whatcha find?

RougeCityCecie: It's horrible; it's absolutely bloody horrible. I'll have to have a talk with Mr. Flyte.

HeroicReporter23: I doubt that alone would do much good. He hasn't been in the best of health this year.

RougeCityCecie: First Bernie dying, now this.

HeroicReporter23: I hear yah, Cecie. I'm with you.

HeroicReporter23: think you can convince him otherwise?

RougeCityCecie: I hope I can.

HeroicReporter23: yah got money for it?

RougeCityCecie: I'll figure it out.

HeroicReporter23: You know he won't come cheap. Things like him start at around 40,000 NB

RougeCityCecie: He's more than five years old; he's depreciated.

HeroicReporter23: well, I don't know the black book value, but he can't have dropped below more than 30,000.

RougeCityCecie: This is horrible. This is exactly what the CRF has been talking about. 

HeroicReporter23: I know, I don't like it one bit either.

RougeCityCecie: I better go, it's late. I got work to do. 

HeroicReporter23: na-night, Cecie.

RougeCityCecie: Take care, Frank.

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III: Bank statement, East Pennsylvania Savings Bank. Cecilia K. Martin. Account#: 6587121-1229

10 November 2165 WDL 15,000 NB

12 November 2165 DEP 15,000 NB

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IV: Transcript of an IM, Cecie Martin to Father Nick Crawford ("FaddahNick") December 6

FaddahNick: You seemed to have something on your mind after Mass today. Is that why you were hanging about the vestibule?

RougeCityCecie: That's why I'm IM'ing you. I decided I couldn't talk to you about it in public.

FaddahNick: I see. Go on.

RougeCityCecie: It's about Joe. They sold him.

FaddahNick: I thought that when I didn't see him hanging about the street in front of the chapel…and that's why you're upset?

RougeCityCecie: Yes. My-life-is-over and all that kind of self-serving crud.

FaddahNick: Maybe you really need to feel the pain; it isn't a sin, you know. Or am I reading it wrong?

RougeCityCecie: I should, but I can't let myself do it. It's like he died, but he didn't, so it just doesn't seem like the right thing to do, to mourn him.

FaddahNick: I think there's a little too much of the Mecha that's got into you. That's not meant to be a criticism, mind you.

RougeCityCecie: I won't deny that. My father used to say 'You lie down with the dogs, you get fleas.'

RougeCityCecie: Got a flea collar for me, faddah?

FaddahNick: laughs No, you have to find that out for yourself. You have to decide what you want to do with these feelings.

FaddahNick: I know what Joe meant to you and your love for him is beautiful.

RougeCityCecie: WAS beautiful.

FaddahNick: You admitted you chose to take it to another level, although there's questions about how culpable you were, given the circumstances.

RougeCityCecie: He offered himself to me. I accepted him. And my life has been hell ever since.

FaddahNick: What do you want to do now?

RougeCityCecie: I want to be with him whom my heart longs for.

FaddahNick: Are you sure that's what you really want? Are you sure that's what God wants for you?

RougeCityCecie: He's given me these feelings and they're eating me up inside.

FaddahNick: Are you sure it's the right thing?

RougeCityCecie: I'm not sure of anything.

FaddahNick: I can't tell you what to choose. I can help you avoid making mistakes, but I can't tell you what to decide. You have to take counsel with the Spirit.

RougeCityCecie: I have. And it seems I'm supposed to find Joe.

FaddahNick: But is that what you really want?

RougeCityCecie: I don't know how else to get any closure on this.

FaddahNick: So who do you think can help you look for Joe?

RougeCityCecie: I asked Vautrin; he said he'd see if he could find the bill of sale, but he said it might not be so simple. If not, I guess I have to go it on my own.

RougeCityCecie: This is what I deserve. I screwed up the relationship with Joe.

FaddahNick: Don't punish yourself, Cecie.

RougeCityCecie: I've made up my mind, and you know how stubborn I am.

FaddahNick: All right, but remember Rodrigo's choice in Claudel's "The Satin Slipper": the indirect way to God is the more arduous.

RougeCityCecie: It's also more _interesting_. And arguably more meritorious.

FaddahNick: gently chiding smile You always find theological ways to justify your ideas.

RougeCityCecie: It wouldn't be me if I didn't.

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V: CRF website, Articles. 12 December

"Boy for Sale" by Cecilia K. Martin

My best friend Joe was sold recently. He wasn't a beloved pet I had to sacrifice because of allergies or because I couldn't afford to keep him. Joe is a male lover-Mecha. I met him when I first moved to Rouge City a few years back when I had then recently finished college. Since I grew up in the still-puritanical Western Massachusetts, well-meaning adults warned me time and again about the dangers of sex Mechas, that the males were more predatory than the worst of Orga men. But Joe, an utterly irresistible black-haired charmer, quick-witted and light on his feet, adequately dispelled this myth for me.

I never viewed him as a mere machine; often he seemed poised on the line that separates Orga from Mecha, at the verge of transcending his programming and stepping across the gulf. To me, he was a cynically sprightly young man about my own age (minus twenty years); the only difference between our natures was constitution. Turing's test worked so well that I fell in love with him two years after I met him, and I had never made use of his more intimate capabilities, probably a rare occurrence. He found this quirk of mine unusual, but he respected it. Still, he used to test me a little from time to time, given his nature and the way I triggered his pursuit centers. But even I am not made of stone: one night when I was ill and he sat beside me, keeping me company, I let myself loose and let him draw me into his embrace.

I can understand people's reaction, why they speak of lover Mechas in bated whispers, view them as predators. But in Joe's case, this simply isn't so. He knew, either from programming or from cross-referencing, the meaning of the word "no!", that I had boundaries I did not want crossed until the night I lowered them. Lest you think all my experiences with male lover-Mechas has never presented danger, I've encountered my share of pushy and even aggressive Mechas and lived to tell the tale. But this did not "cure" me of my fondness for Joe. It only reinforced it since he was the different one, the gentle one.

A friend of mine, another writer, lost his wife recently, killed when an anti-Mecha terrorist cell bombed a hotel in Vrilitaria where he and his wife were enjoying a second honeymoon. I couldn't imagine the sense of loss Harley (not his real name) must be feeling in the wake of this tragedy, but then I lost Joe, a comparable if not entirely similar case. Something like this carries the same dynamics as the loss of a spouse, but in my case, I don't have the luxury of closure, of having at least a gravesite to visit. I can only wonder where Joe is now, who owns him, what kind of place it is. An upscale agency? A low-scale club? Or is he a street prostitute? Does his owner maintain him carefully? Or has he suffered as I have seen other Mecha suffer: beatings, confinement, burned with cigarettes, even deliberately damaged beyond repair and tossed out into the woods, marginally functioning.

I was ready to pay cash on the barrelhead, most of my life's savings, to pay for Joe's freedom when his previous owner put him up for sale. It was a "by appointment only" private auction, but I slipped in before to convince his owner to let me buy Joe.

He refused. He admired my determination, but he needed the money to pay for his medical bills. I lingered, watching the proceedings from the safety of the shadows at the back of the dining room where the auction, a silent one, was being held. 

I endured watching the potential buyers examine Joe, quiz him on the number of clients he'd served and the rate of satisfaction. One female buyer wanted to engage him then and there, but thankfully she was not allowed to. They even ordered him to disrobe, a perfect sight for sore eyes (and mine were!) but it only scalded my eyes to see him naked before a group of well-dressed, prosperous businesspeople. The slave markets of the Deep South in the first half of the 1800s came to mind, or perhaps more appropriately, the slave markets of the Roman Empire, where a male slave might be bought as a laborer or as a kept lover.

Security detected my presence and tried to put me out, but true to my headstrong Irish nature, I went out by my own foot power. I didn't even get a chance to exchange a last loving glance with him, from across the room; partings like that only happen in movies. I never found out who bought Joe. Harley likes to joke saying some bosomy old dowager posing as a procuress bought Joe and now keeps him as a kind of human lapdog, but we both realize that's doubtlessly not the case.

I asked a friend of mine lucky enough to have access to records for the sex trade commission in Rouge City, but he wasn't allowed to see the bill of sale himself. Much as he wanted to, he couldn't help me at all.

These brick walls only make my desire to find Joe more fervent. The longing for just the mere innocent pleasure of his company has grown more ardent. I wonder if, in the U.S. South during the first half of the 1800s, a young white woman ever felt the same way as I feel for Joe, for an African slave whom she had practically grown up alongside, but whom her father or some other insensitive figure of authority sold, tearing them away from each other. I wonder if, like me, she went on her own quest through the South, searching for her friend, in slave markets and on other plantations. Perhaps her pain inspired her to join the abolition movement emerging. I only hope she, and I, would be lucky and blessed enough to find her beloved alive and intact.

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VI: IM Frank to Cecie, 26 December

RougeCityCecie: So how are you holding up?

HeroicReporter23: Not too, thinking about Bern. I swear sometimes she's just in the next room reading and that she'll come in, hug me around the neck, call me to help with supper…

RougeCityCecie: I know a little what you're feeling. Some days I'm out walking and I spot a guy (usually but now always a Mecha) who looks a lot like Joe. But then I get closer and I realize it isn't him. 

HeroicReporter23: Green eyes? Black hair?

RougeCityCecie: Yeah. 8'^(

HeroicReporter23: who was it wrote the haiku about the guy finding his wife's comb in the bedroom?

RougeCityCecie: Lemme get my book

RougeCityCecie: Buson:

"The piercing chill I feel

My dead wife's comb, in our bedroom

Under my heel."

HeroicReporter23: Bernie's perfume, the stuff I gave her for Christmas last year. It was me she really wanted it for, but she didn't let on. Found a blouse of hers that still had some on it. 

HeroicReporter23: a soft silken blouse

From its folds a rose scented mist

HeroicReporter23: stuck on the last line. Damn.

RougeCityCecie: It's okay; I see where you want to go.

HeroicReporter23: anyone since Joe?

RougeCityCecie: No.

HeroicReporter23: Alex…?

RougeCityCecie: NO!!

RougeCityCecie: 8'^P

HeroicReporter23: ???

RougeCityCecie: Too feisty!

HeroicReporter23: and Joe wasn't?

RougeCityCecie: Not the same way.

RougeCityCecie: What about you?

HeroicReporter23: what?

RougeCityCecie: Any special someone?

HeroicReporter23: nah.

HeroicReporter23: met up with this girl Mecha that looked like the one You Know Who had his eye on.

HeroicReporter23: Forget that! I hit the send button too fast.

RougeCityCecie: No, go on if you need to talk.

HeroicReporter23: so…we found us a little dark corner.

HeroicReporter23: CENSORED!!!

RougeCityCecie: ;8'^)

HeroicReporter23: wasn't the same as it used to be. Bernie's always gonna be my gal.

RougeCityCecie: Just as Joe's always gonna be my fella.

HeroicReporter23: so I went to confession the very next day. Felt like I cheated on Bernie.

RougeCityCecie: She'd understand either way.

HeroicReporter23: I hope

HeroicReporter23: can't get myself off here.

RougeCityCecie: I know.

HeroicReporter23: stalling. Don't want to go to sleep. Bed's too big and it's a twin.

RougeCityCecie: Go on, stay with me, Frank.

HeroicReporter23: slept on the couch; that's too big. Slept on the floor for a while. Trouble is…we had that nice Berber carpet in the den…

HeroicReporter23: CENSORED!!!

HeroicReporter23: you hear about Kip and Phila?

RougeCityCecie: Yeah, terrible shame. Phila is devastated.

HeroicReporter23: Bern and me qualified, but they didn't. I'm still eligible, I just have to find a woman who's qualified.

RougeCityCecie: They don't exactly grow on trees these days. Most of 'em give up on marriage.

HeroicReporter23: tell me about it! Most of the guys at the paper want to get married and have a kid, but there's only two girls out of a couple dozen who do.

RougeCityCecie: I imagine.

RougeCityCecie: Any news on Hal?

HeroicReporter23: he got taken off the VR simulator. I saw him two weeks ago: looked terrible.

RougeCityCecie: Did he ever look all right?

HeroicReporter23: he looked bad even in his baby pictures/

HeroicReporter23: you all right, Cecie?

RougeCityCecie: Yeah, I've been looking at old picture Hal took at the wedding, Joe and me.

HeroicReporter23: me see?

Picture Upload: tango.jpg bridge.jpg waltz.jpg

HeroicReporter23: you look great there, both of you.

RougeCityCecie: Thanks

HeroicReporter23: that when you started falling for him?

RougeCityCecie: No, not that I noticed. That came later, when he got messed up with Allison Diocletian, and I got really mad at Joe.

HeroicReporter23: ouch. Who could blame you? That must have made you jealous.

RougeCityCecie: It did.

HeroicReporter23: Talk to me.

HeroicReporter23: wake up, Cecie

HeroicReporter23: knock, knock, Cecie

HeroicReporter23: I guess the Matrix has her.

Auto-response from RougeCityCecie: ::Has peanut butter in her ears::

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VII: Extracts from Cecie's journal

31 December: Frank came over, cooked, chatted. Reminisced. Went for a walk. It's snowing like crazy, but that's hardly put a damper on the festivities outside. Some idiot with a water blaster was blasting people on Harlot Square, us among them, so we ran back to my hotel room, drenched. Let him borrow an old robe of my dad's while his clothes dried.

I don't know how it got started, but we ended up on my couch, him on top of me, cuddling, kissing, deep. It was just about to get out of hand, I'd slid my hand inside the front of the robe he had on, when I came to my senses. I guess I mistook him for Joe. I pushed him away. I was startled. He looked at me a little puzzled, then I explained what had happened. He let it go. His stuff had dried by then, so, in his own words, he did the gentlemanly thing to do and went away.

3 January 2166: Could hardly sleep last night. I kept running one hand over my skin, imagining it was Joe's hand, so softer, almost as soft as or softer than my own.

Oh, Joey, where are you?

9 January: It's burning me alive. I can't think, can't write. I'm of a mind to pack my things and go. But where? I'm a pariah in Westhillston. I no longer belong here in Rouge City. Too much here to remind me of Joe.

10 January: Dreamt of Joe, simple innocent things at first, almost a replay of our meeting, then more ardent. We both seemed to meld together, like two drops of mercury.

12 January: Half-awake dream vision. Joe lying beside me, arms folded under his perfectly molded chin, not blunt, not pointed, elegantly in between, his eyes cocked at me. 'Care for some?' they seem to ask. I reached out. And I woke up....alone.

15 January: My rent is due. Work to finish. Thank God for the digital age, post-paper (mostly) or I'd be sending tear-stained work to Dreyfus, the new agent, and he wouldn't be amused.

22 January: I haven't written in this in a week since I had a fever of unknown origin. The doctors at Saints Memorial in Camden have no idea what this is since they couldn't find any traces of viruses or anything else. They think it's psychosomatic, brought on by stress. They have me in therapy now.

23 January: Dr. Montay Quivar. He? She? …Both? Pick one to make it easier: she. At least she's Catholic and she recognizes where I'm coming from, but I get the feeling she wants me to move on to another Mecha.

24 January: Relapse. Phila wants me to move in with her and Kip so she can keep an eye on me, but that's impossible since Frank is living with them and there's no room for me. I'm glad I won't be living there: seeing Frank day after day would kill me.

25 January: I'm on meds now, nasty little green pill things. Just one look into Joe's green eyes would do me more good than any number of pills.

27 January: Sleep, sleep, sleep. My best friend and my worst enemy. I'm working again, but I look forward to bedtime, slip between the sheets warm, soft, inviting; fabric caressing my skin. I haven't thought of Joe all day, but at night, when my eyelids close, I dream he's there: lying across the covers, keeping watch; nestled beside me, sometimes entwined with me. No one can fault me for dreaming of him.

28 January: another relapse: this one moral. I returned to the bad habits of my youth. It doesn't work any more. Moral considerations aside, the pleasure of the flesh is something you really have to share with your beloved one. You get more out of it that way, and you have something to give of yourself as well.

Went to confession. I confess my longings for Joe a thousand times, and still I keep doing it.

30 January: Frank found an apartment in Haddonfield, over the line in New Jersey. For the moment, I'm living with Kip and Phila. I keep out of their way. I've limited myself to two small meals a day: I've found that keeps my hormones in check. Leave me too hungry to think of anything else.

Phila wants me to leave Rouge City all together. I'm almost too tired to object…bad sign if Cecie Martin does not feel like fighting. Bad trouble indeed!

1 February: I'm half awake, half asleep this morning, remembering that first painfully blissful night with Joe, he lying on his side, carefully holding me locked to himself, waves of pleasure washing over and through my being, even as twinges prick my side where Jay had stabbed me. 

I shouldn't think this way, even when I'm drowsy.

14 Feb. St. Valentine's Day: Went to Frank's "St. Valentine's Day Massacre Party" at his apartment. He'd invited a lot of his crazy friends at the _Broadsheet_, amongst others, so his living room looked like the greenroom of a theatre during a production of _Guys and Dolls_. I went dressed as an Irish girl gangster (fedora, man's suit with loud vest, water gun painted black); Frank was an unheroic-looking photographer (he hadn't shaved and I think he had Hal's hat on), complete with antique camera. I had a great time, but when I took the bullet train home, my heart started to break.

Joe may as well be dead. St. Valentine's Day…I think I remember Vautrin telling me this day is Joe's inception day. This info only makes my pain worse.

Consider this:

I hated dolls as a kid. I could never abide them, especially the Supertoy ones that you could almost mistake for someone's little sister. (I've heard from several sources that supposedly Allen Hobby, the director of Cybertronics in Manhattan and New Jersey, has been trying to build a kid-sized Mecha, but nothing's been conclusive). My mom tried to get me interested in dolls, but I was more of a stuffed animal kid. The quiet, cuddly little thing variety; the Supertoy variety spooked me a little.

Service droids. I never though about them, any more than you think about street sweepers. Receptionist Mechas in doctor's offices used to spook me as kid, but I got used to them. Serving men and maids in a few people's homes: I saw them as no different than flesh and blood servants.

Some people argue that lover-Mechas are just adult versions of the classic "Barbie and Ken" dolls. I don't argue their point; in some cases, it's true. But Joe—though he fit the mold—was much more than that to me.

So considering the above facts, why am I bent out of shape over Joe?

The simplest explanation is that he's not just a Mecha to me. He is my beloved, and if it were possible, I am his. We know each other inside and out, he and I. We have comforted each other, even though he doesn't "need" comfort. There's times when I wish I had the same hold of my emotions, not that he really has any in the broadest sense.

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VIII: IM Frank to Cecie, 16 February

HeroicReporter23: EXTRA! EXTRA!! READ ALL ABOUT IT!!!

RougeCityCecie: ::deafened:: WHAAAATT???

HeroicReporter23: you'll never guess who **I** spotted last night when I was in the rough part of Haddonfield covering s breaking story.

RougeCityCecie: Who?

HeroicReporter23: I didn't get a chance to really find out if that's who it really was, but…

RougeCityCecie: But what?

HeroicReporter23: … … …

RougeCityCecie: You're killing me, Frank.

HeroicReporter23: I spotted this Mecha who looked an awful lot like Joe.

RougeCityCecie: Really?

HeroicReporter23: yeah.

RougeCityCecie: How did he look?

HeroicReporter23: about the same. You show know by now that Mechas don't change.

RougeCityCecie: I know that, but I didn't know but his new owners didn't reset his defaults.

HeroicReporter23: nope, he looked about the same as always does: like me.

RougeCityCecie: Did you get a chance to speak to him?

HeroicReporter23: didn't, sorry.

RougeCityCecie: 'Sallight.

RougeCityCecie: Could you find out who's got him?

HeroicReporter23: Hey, I thought Vautrin was helping you out on that.

RougeCityCecie: He isn't allowed to access the record.

HeroicReporter23: well, that bites. Hal could help you on that one, but he's can't get to the technology for that. I could help you, but that would mean making a lot of weird phone calls. There's gotta be five escort services working out of this town, and I'd feel weird doing it. I ain't Hal.

RougeCityCecie: I'LL do it. You don't have to get your hands dirty, Frank.

HeroicReporter23: I don't want you to, either.

RougeCityCecie: I understand, but this is something I have to do, or else I'll never have closure.

HeroicReporter23: is it closure or is it starting over?

RougeCityCecie: I'm taking the Fifth.

HeroicReporter23: you're incriminating yourself anyway. Hal taught me that much. "No one takes the Fifth unless they got something to hide."

RougeCityCecie: Dang reporters.

HeroicReporter23: heh, heh, heh, heh.

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IX: Extract from Cecie's journal, 19 February 2166

I started logging onto escort service websites for the Haddonfield area. I won't go into detail: these have to be the most embarrassing kinds of sites to log onto, even after I've lived in a sleazy city for four years. But I finally found the one, Blue Diamond, operating out of a hotel, the Mirrored Room. After a little rummaging about the Yellow Pages, I found the mailing address. I can barely bring myself to call them and send for Joe like anyone else hiring his services. So I'm going to proceed with caution, break the ice carefully. I'll do the old-fashioned thing and write to him. Yes, actually use a pen to write words on a real piece of paper.

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2 of 3

J.M.J.  
  
TITLE: "Cash on the Barrelhead" -- Part 2 of 3  
  
AUTHOR: "Matrix Refugee"  
  
RATING: PG-13 (subject matter, angst)  
  
ARCHIVE: Permission granted  
  
FEEDBACK: Pleasepleasepleaseplease!  
  
DISCLAIMER: Nope, I don't own "A.I.", which belongs to DreamWorks, Steve, Stan, Warner Brothers, et al. If I had any right to the film, there would be a spin-off TV series of it now.  
  
NOTES: More fragments, of an even more fragmentary nature: I hope I make it clear what's going on, but there's a lot of things that are only hinted at... Makes it a little more mysterious and helps heighten the emotional intensity, or at least it did for me.  
  
SUMMARY: Cecie starts sending love letters to Joe, but she receives a shocking reply.   
  
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I Letter from Cecie Martin to Joe  
  
February 19, 2166  
  
Dear Joe,  
  
Happy New Year! I know it's a little late to be wishing you this, but I didn't get a chance to untill now. I hope this reaches you safely and that you're having a good year so far. Is Haddonfield to your tastes? I think I passed through there on my way down to Rouge City the first time: Looks a lot like Westhillston, only with a red-light district.  
  
I've been up to the eyes writing summer travel brochures and newsletters for the electric company. Frank is still trying to get me a job copy-editing for the Broadsheet.  
  
Mr. Flyte has been trying to hook me up with Julien, but I had to disappoint them both by telling them I just wasn't interested. Not after I've known you for so long. Julien's just too jumpy for me: they must have set his DAS regulators much too high.  
  
Without you around, the city has just been too dull: the neon lighting might as well be white lights and the music makes my heart as well as my head ache: Every time I go out, you aren't there, dancing to the city rhythm I thought I saw you in a crowd the other night, but when I got closer, I realized it was only an Orga man (not Frank either). I'm half of a mind to pull up stakes and cross the Delaware to be closer to you.  
  
My eyes are tearing up, which only makes me want you all the more. I'd better stop torturing myself and send this off to you -- but then I'll be in torment waiting for your reply, though that will be a much sweeter sorrow.  
  
We all miss you, even Phila. If Bernie were still alive, I bet she'd be missing you too.  
  
Write soon...  
  
Kisses,  
  
Cecie  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
II Letter from Joe to Cecie  
  
February 21, 2166  
  
My dear Cecie  
  
An exquisite surprise came my way when I reported back to the house this morning and Ms. Van Thuang, the secretary told me, "There's a letter for you, Joe." I have many admirers in and about this locality, but no one of them has ever written me a letter with their own hand and mailed it to me.  
  
Reading your sweet words, I sense tremendous loneliness and an aching longing within you. How I wish I could be there to ease this pain. Once we were together, you would quickly forget your sorrows. Though you clearly are surrounded by well-meaning friends, they cannot provide the kind of attentions which I could offer to you as a lover. Their concern for you is but a morsel, but I can provide for you a banquet of delight.  
  
Tell me more about yourself in your next letter. I remain yours in love and anticipation,  
  
Joe  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
III Transcript of an IM, Frank Sweitz ("HeroicReporter23") to Cecie Martin ("RougeCityCecie") February 21, 2166  
  
HeroicReporter23: any luck?  
  
RougeCityCecie: I heard back from Joe.   
  
HeroicReporter23: grin oh boy!!!  
  
RougeCityCecie: Yeah. Oh boy.  
  
HeroicReporter23: ??  
  
HeroicReporter23: ????  
  
HeroicReporter23: ???????  
  
RougeCityCecie: He didn't know me  
  
HeroicReporter23: ?!!?  
  
RougeCityCecie: It's like he had some kind of brain wipe.  
  
HeroicReporter23: !!!!!  
  
RougeCityCecie: Type to me, Frank.  
  
HeroicReporter23: sorry. He's so human I forget he's Mecha sometimes.  
  
HeroicReporter23: what do you mean?  
  
RougeCityCecie: He had no idea who I was. I mean, the letter was beautifully written, but in the last lines, he asked me to tell him more about myself.  
  
HeroicReporter23: I'll have to ask around, see if anyone's heard about things like this happening before.  
  
HeroicReporter23: but when you think about it, it's almost like turning back the odometer on a used car.  
  
RougeCityCecie: That was my thought too.  
  
HeroicReporter23: wonder why they did that...  
  
HeroicReporter23: the only one who could tell us would be Hal, but he's kinda out of commission, though I heard there was some kind of plea bargain going through. I guess the SPCB was going to see that the slate got wiped clean  
  
HeroicReporter23: since he knows something they need to know.  
  
RougeCityCecie: Errrr..... not the first person I'd want to ask.  
  
HeroicReporter23: don't blame you, but he sure knows a lot about how those Mechas work!  
  
RougeCityCecie: True. I'll see if Vautrin knows anything about this. Should get offline anyway. G'night  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
IV Extract from Cecie's journal, February 22, 2166  
  
I spoke with Dr. Quivar about how to handle the change in my relationship with Joe. She's not sure how exactly to handle the situation, since she has only a rudimentary knowledge of the inner workings of the Mecha mind. But she figured the best way to handle this is to treat it like a case of ordinary amnesia and help him relearn what he once knew about me.  
  
Vautrin tells me this brain wipe is a bit unorthodox, but he's heard of some unscrupulous people who buy used lover-Mechas wiping the "profile database", i.e., the names and identifying items of the Mecha's previous clients. It's not really illegal, but it's not a nice thing to do, either.  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
V Letter from Cecie Martin to Joe  
  
February 22, 2166  
  
My dear Joe,  
  
I'm sorry if I didn't introduce myself properly in my first letter to you. My name is Cecilia Martin, but I prefer to be called Cecie. I'm a writer living in Rouge City, but I was born in Massachusetts and I moved here about six years ago after I visited this crazy town and I got a lot of ideas for the kind of stories that I write.  
  
I'm currently living with my long-time friend Phila Langier and her husband Kip. I'm also close friends with a young reporter-fellow named Frank Sweitz, who used to be married to Phila's cousin Bernadette (or "Bernie" as we all called her), but Bernie died in an explosion at a European hotel when she and Frank were staying there while Frank was on assignment. Frank's a great friend, but nothing more than that, though some people think we should be more that friends. I really don';t want that, at least not from him. There was someone who I loved, but I lost him. If I was ever to start over again, it would only be with someone like the man I lost.  
  
Some of that must sound a little tearful, but writing and thinking about the love I once had is still rather painful. He's been gone several months now, but this kind of pain takes a while to fade.  
  
But... I'm sure you could very well help me to forget this sorrow. Your letters help me through this darkness.  
  
With love,  
  
Cecie Martin  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
VI Letter from Joe to Cecie  
  
February 24, 2166  
  
My dearest Cecie,  
  
I can sense the sorrow you feel encompassing you like a dark blue cloak. If you so desire, let me be the one to comfort you and lift this cloak from your shoulders to clothe you in delight. I can help you to forget the pain of losing the loved one you mentioned with such sorrow, and help you to create new memories of a different love.  
  
Yours in delight,  
  
Joe  
  
[Enclosed: a business card for Blue Diamond Escort Service, with Joe's pager number written on the back.]  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
VII Transcript of an IM, Frank Sweitz to Cecie Martin, February 24, 2166  
  
RougeCityCecie: He's so different.  
  
HeroicReporter23: yeah. I imagine losing part of his memory took something out of him.  
  
RougeCityCecie: I hope his new owner had a legitimate reason for wiping that part of his memory.   
  
HeroicReporter23: still, it must really bite. You have to start off at first base all over again.  
  
HeroicReporter23: I'm sorry. That sounded like a cheap shot.  
  
HeroicReporter23: 1st base, I mean.  
  
RougeCityCecie: It's all right, Frank, you mean well.   
  
HeroicReporter23: so, are you gonna keep writing?  
  
HeroicReporter23: to Joe, I mean.  
  
RougeCityCecie: Of course I will. It's not going to be easy, but it isn't impossible.   
  
HeroicReporter23: good. Good to hear that.  
  
HeroicReporter23: it wouldn't seem like you if you didn't make that effort!  
  
RougeCityCecie: Not at all!   
  
HeroicReporter23: so are you...?  
  
RougeCityCecie: Am I what?   
  
HeroicReporter23: are you gonna set a date and time for an assignation with Joe?  
  
RougeCityCecie: Not just yet. I don't want to seem too forward.   
  
RougeCityCecie: That didn't sound right. I meant, I just want it to go the way it did before, let him get to know me all over again.   
  
HeroicReporter23: wise choice.  
  
RougeCityCecie: I better get off here and write my next letter to him.   
  
HeroicReporter23: you do that.  
  
RougeCityCecie: G'night, Frank.   
  
HeroicReporter23: you take care, Cecie.  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
VIII Letter from Cecie Martin to Joe  
  
February 29th, 2166  
  
My beloved Joe,  
  
This is just a quick note: I will be in Haddonfield on March 12, delivering some copy to the office of the Haddofield "Dispatch", the paper which my friend Frank Sweitz works for. It's nothing earth-shattering: just a human interest piece that I wrote about a CRF rally I'd been to over the weekend.  
  
Hopefully I'll see you: I'll be on Fifth Street around 3 p.m. I've enclosed a photo of me so you'll know what I look like.  
  
Hugs,  
  
Cecie  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
IX Extract from Cecie's journal, March 5, 2166  
  
Joe's personality is utterly untouched by his amnesia. He's still as sweet and gracious and shyly friendly and innocently passionate as he ever was. I guess his personality parameters are on one chip, and his "profile cache" is on another.  
  
I met him outside a place called the Shangri-La Hotel, one of those places that rents rooms by the hour: definately a hooker hotel. Herald Street is somewhat like a mini-version of the less tidy streets of Rouge City, and every bit as decadent, only it's just one street in an otherwise Norman Rockwellian town.  
  
But I noticed a few things I'd rather not: the posters for a Flesh Fair tacked to a wall. A bunch of kids driving by throwing bottles and rocks at an old service droid sweeping the sidewalk.  
  
And I don't doubt that whoever bought Joe isn't taking a sgood care of him as Mr. Flyte did. Not that I saw any signs of damage on Joe, but I had this funny feeling that something isn't quite right with him. His eyes are still as green as they ever were and his handsome face just as sweet and exquisite. But he has changed.  
  
Or maybe... he hasn't changed, but I've changed. He was part of the catalyst that changed me, and now somehow he has been changed.  
  
No matter who you are, Orga or Mecha, change is hard. If you're Mecha, you may not even be aware of it, but those who know you are: what once was is now no longer and cannot be brought back.  
  
I'm tempted to contact Hal McGeever, Frank's wierd friend the Mecha-expert, and ask him if there's anything I need to know about Joe's amnesia, but I think I can get by. Hal wasn't the most adept at emotional know-how, though he could probably have given me a whole dissertation on the mechanical aspects. Frank's been writing to him now that the prison where he's being held has taken him out of isolation in a hibernaculum. It seems Hal got some kind of deferred sentance or something like that, since he knows some information about another Mecha-related case the SPCB had almost sent to the cold case file.  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
X Letter from Cecie to Joe  
  
March 10th, 2166  
  
My dearest Joe,  
  
This is the third time I started this latter since I wasn't sure to phrase this in a way that you would easily understand.  
  
Joe, you probably don't remember any of this, but we knew each other before you came to Haddonfield. I don't know why, but the people who bought you from Mr. Flyte, the man here in Rouge City who used to own you, decided to wipe part of your memory. I first met you here not far from the Hotel Graceley, where I used to live. You walked me home and then I got delightfully startled when I found out you're Mecha, not because I was afraid, but simply because I never had much contact with Mechas like you. But in the weeks and months that followed, we got to know each other and we became good friends.  
  
I hope this isn't too much for your brain to handle. I'll tell you more about our times together, in future letters, but only if you want to hear it.  
  
Till the next time, my love,  
  
Cecie  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XI Transcript of an IM chat log, Frank, Cecie and Hal McGeever ("HMaguire") March 15, 2166  
  
HMaguire: So what exactly do you want to know?  
  
RougeCityCecie: I want to know if it's for a Mecha that has had part of his memory wiped to remember anything that was in those files.   
  
HeroicReporter23: she's referring to Joe. He got sold to some escort service in Haddonfield, NJ a couple months back.  
  
HMaguire: Oh? What joint?  
  
RougeCityCecie: That's none of your business, Hal  
  
HMaguire: Hey, watch it there. I got my ways of finding out anyway.  
  
HeroicReporter23: whoa, whoa, let's all simmer down. We can be cool: we're all friends here. Right?  
  
RougeCityCecie: Right.  
  
HeroicReporter23: so where were we?  
  
RougeCityCecie: I was just asking Hal if a lover-Mecha could remember anything if his "profile logs" had been wiped.  
  
HMaguire: Ain't possible if the whole cube has been wiped, but if just the profile logs were wiped  
  
HMaguire: It might recall a few bits and pieces. You how even if a file is wiped from a hard drive, bits of the data can be left behind on the edges of the track it was recorded on. Same thing happens with Mechas.  
  
HMaguire: Most of the time, those fragments can be read only with very sensitive scanners, but depending on the Mecha, they can almost piece it back together themselves.  
  
HMaguire: Almost as if they scanned themselves.  
  
RougeCityCecie: Do you think Joe could remember me this way?  
  
HMaguire: Okay, I get the picture now: you think the people that bought him removed his profile logs?  
  
RougeCityCecie: Yes.  
  
HeroicReporter23: Isn't that illegal?  
  
HMaguire: You bet it is, though the clause is a bit funny about sexual performance models. But other than that, it's like turning back the odometer on a used car.  
  
RougeCityCecie: So is there anything I can do about it?  
  
HMaguire: You can talk him up, see if anything tracks itself  
  
RougeCityCecie: Should I tell him about any of the things that happened to us, him and I?  
  
HMaguire: Wouldn't hurt to try, but don't expect miracles.  
  
HeroicReporter23: didn't you write a letter to him like that, Cecie?  
  
HeroicReporter23: to Joe I mean.  
  
RougeCityCecie: Yes, I'm waiting to hear back from him.  
  
HMaguire: I'd like to see the reply.  
  
RougeCityCecie: Okay, I'll send you a copy.  
  
RougeCityCecie: So I send it to the Juno address?  
  
HMaguire: hmaguire-jr juno.com  
  
RougeCityCecie: Okay, will do. Thanks, Hal. And thanks for sitting in on this chat, Frank.  
  
HeroicReporter23: you're welcome, Cecie.  
  
HeroicReporter23: btw  
  
RougeCityCecie: Yes?  
  
HeroicReporter23: would you mind if I ran a human interest story on you and Joe? I'll change names and identifying details.  
  
HMaguire: Jimmy Thirties, ace reporter hard at work.  
  
RougeCityCecie: Oh, go right ahead, Frank. I'd be glad if you did.  
  
HMaguire: Gotta get off here. There's only one computer with 'Net access here at the halfway house and another guy wants to use it.  
  
HMaguire: Did I mention it has WinDoze on it?  
  
HeroicReporter23: uh oh! Unfit for use by computer hacks?  
  
HMaguire: Well, self-respecting ones who have the luxury of their own space and their own machine.  
  
HMaguire: Na-night, people  
  
HMaguire has left the chat room   
  
HeroicReporter23: I hope that helped you.  
  
RougeCityCecie: I hope so too.  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XII Letter from Joe to Cecie  
  
March 16th, 2166   
  
My dearest Cecie,  
  
From these most precious words you have shared with me in your most recent missive, it seems that you and I have known each other for some time. When met on the street in Haddonfield, the sight of your face struck a chord of familiarity within me, a chord echoed in the way you looked upon me. And you talk of having met me in Rouge City where we met once before, that glowing city of a thousand hearts all in need of consolation, yours among them.  
  
Please speak to me of the past. Help me to recall more of it.  
  
I kiss the paper your letter is written upon since your hand is not here to be kissed.  
  
Tenderly, your,  
  
Joe  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XIII Extract from Cecie's journal, March 19th, 2166   
  
It's as if Joe were trying to remember our history together, as if he were trying to bend the limitations of his programming or his processors. I'm amazed at this, but if that's the case, I don't want him to push himself too hard and damage himself. I don't think I could live with myself if I knew he had hurt himself trying to remember what lies behind us.  
  
Joey, I love you so much... be careful with yourself.  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XIV Letter from Cecie Martin to Joe  
  
March 21st, 2166   
  
My dear Joe,  
  
I've been going through my diary, finding entries about you. I've printed them all out and you'll find them in the package I've enclosed this letter in. I hope you enjoy reading them; I'm going to root around in my files and find some other items. This might take a while, but I will send them to you, as often as I can. I wish I could go there to Haddonfield to be with you, but I have a lot of work to do. Those summer travel brochures need their write-ups written. But... once I finish those, I'll take the train to Haddonfield and go there to be with you, even for only a little while.  
  
Take care of yourself,  
  
Cecie  
  
[Enclosed: Several printouts of entries in Cecie's diary, their contents similar to "Conversations with a Mecha Named Joe".]  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XV Letter from Joe to Cecie  
  
March 24th, 2166   
  
My dearest Cecie, better known as Lady Bountiful,  
  
You cannot know the gratitude I sense as I read the items you sent me. Part of my being cannot but help seeing these as accounts of things which happened to another couple, but another part of me can dimly recall these little incidents. I wondered how I came to have that black scarf shot through with golden threads, the first Christmas present which you gave to me. And I am deeply grateful that I was the first whom you ever kissed. I hope that no more rabble-rousers have sought to inflict mayhem in Rouge City and that you have been careful to use your umbrella since I am no longer there to kiss away the raindrops from your cheeks.  
  
If there is more to be told, I count the days, the hours, the minutes and the seconds till when I receive the parcel containing these memories.  
  
In anticipation, I remain your  
  
Joe  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XVI Extract from Cecie's journal, March 26th, 2166  
  
I've been so busy working, I've hardly been able to get back to Joe and send him more memories. I'll have to talk with Phila about the time she and Bernie came to Rouge City. That's gonna take some telling, since I'll have to fill in some of Bernie's narrative with fictionalized speculation.... But I just might have the beginning of a new novel here....  
  
But that's gonna have to wait till I finish with these crazy winter travel guides: Visit the balmy Bermuda Spires!  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XVI Letter from Cecie Martin to Joe  
  
March 30th, 2166  
  
My dearest Joe,  
  
I'm sorry if this took a while to show up: I got frightfully busy with those travel brochures and also I had to do a little research with some friends about the next chapter of our -- yours and my -- shared history. You'll find it all written out in the bound marble-covered notebook in this package. It's all about two girls whom I grew up with and what happened to them when their car broke down on the highway near Rouge City. I might even try publishing these stories: I think they're some of my best original work yet.  
  
Can I ask you a question? What does your owner think of your regular correspondence with me? I hope it's okay with him: I wouldn't want to make trouble for you, Joe.  
  
I'll be thinking of you a lot as I write out the next part of our story...  
  
With love,  
  
Cecie  
  
[Enclosed: another bound notebook, this one containing roughly the same story as "Runnin' Loose on the Streets of Rouge City".]  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XVII Letter from Joe to Cecie  
  
April 3, 2166  
  
My most inspired and inspiring Cecie,  
  
During the rare moments when I do not have a customer, I fill this time by reading your missives to me. It sounds as though you and I spent our time together wisely and happily. Would that I could recall these incidents distinctly, yet shadows of these incidents rise in my recall as I read these tales. I hope that Phila and Bernie have since gotten over their horror over my kind and that the time which they spent in Rouge City helped to dispell their concerns and fears.  
  
As for what my owner thinks of our corresponding, I doubt that Ms. Hattie Calvert knows of it. The girl who works for her, answering the telephone and writing letters sorts the mail even before Ms. Calvert sees it, thus she does not see the parcels which you send to me.  
  
As for publishing these tales of our times together, I say that you should do so only if you think they should be shared with the world. But they are such wondrous and romantic tales that the whole world should read them and thus see that Orga and Mecha can indeed live side-by-side in peace and tranquility.  
  
I await your next letter with eager patience  
  
Your,  
  
Joe  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XIX Letter from Cecie to Joe  
  
April 1th, 2166  
  
My most patient Joe,  
  
Sorry this took so long to get out to you, but this was a much longer narrative to get down on paper. I think you'll really like this one: It's all about when Phila and Bernie got married to their respective sweethearts, Kip and Frank. It's a long story, but it's a lot of fun: lots of funny things happen in it. If I ever get these stories published, I'd really love to see someone make a movie based on this one!  
  
Till the next time I write,  
  
Cecie  
  
[Enclosed: two notebooks containing the text of what approximates "One of THOSE in Our Midst!]  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XX Letter from Joe to Cecie  
  
April 20, 2166  
  
My dear Cecie, Authoress Extraordinaire,  
  
There are not enough words in the English language to describe your work. For one thing, you have used up all of the best ones so that anyone who tried to use them would find them worn out from the delightful exertions of serving your narrative.  
  
Please, do send me more of this account as soon as you complete it. Forgive my sounding too eager: the more you share with me, the more resonance I find within the depths of my memory  
  
That you have suche feeling for me goes almost beyond my comprehending. I am, after all, but a mere Mecha, built specific for a given task, albeit one which brings delight to many troubled hearts.  
  
I anticipate your next missive with joy.  
  
Always, your,   
  
Joe  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XXI Transcription of an IM, Frank to Cecie April 20, 2166  
  
HeroicReporter23: You hear from Joe?  
  
RougeCityCecie: Yeah... but he sounded different.   
  
HeroicReporter23: another effect of the memory wipe?  
  
RougeCityCecie: No... he sounded sad.   
  
HeroicReporter23: oh dear. What do you mean?  
  
RougeCityCecie: Well, he said ....   
  
HeroicReporter23: sounds like someone put him down and he let it get to him. I didn't think things  
  
HeroicReporter23: like him could do that.  
  
RougeCityCecie: A lover-Mecha with low self-esteem? Not a good thing.   
  
HeroicReporter23: Well, Haddonfield is, in some ways, a rougher place than Rouge City.  
  
HeroicReporter23: for all it's worth, Mechas get treated better there than they do in this hick town.  
  
RougeCityCecie: I can tell. I saw the signs when I was there.  
  
HeroicReporter23: what? The Flesh Fair posters?  
  
RougeCityCecie: Yeah... urrggh!  
  
HeroicReporter23: yaagghh... I've seen what they do there.  
  
RougeCityCecie: I've only seen a decidedly pro-Mecha documentary about it, on PBS.  
  
RougeCityCecie: And that's as much as I care to see!  
  
HeroicReporter23: I'd be terrified if you said otherwise.  
  
HeroicReporter23: so how is it going, refreshing Joe's memory?  
  
RougeCityCecie: He's responding beautifully.  
  
RougeCityCecie: I can't say it's like nothing ever happened to his head, but he's lapping up my stories  
  
RougeCityCecie: about him and I.  
  
HeroicReporter23: glad to hear that! You gonna see him again?  
  
RougeCityCecie: After I finish the last story, and after Easter, whichever comes first.  
  
HeroicReporter23: help burn those memories back into his pretty head?  
  
RougeCityCecie: Thats' one way to look at it!  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XXII Letter from Cecie to Joe  
  
April 25, 2166  
  
My dearest Joe, the Model of Patience,  
  
I'm sorry this package took so long to send to you: I had more work to do, so that slowed me down, writing the next chapter of our story together. It's a little sad in places, and scary in a lot of places, but it's a good story.  
  
I'll let the text speak for itself and send this off to you.  
  
Kisses,  
  
Cecie  
  
[Enclosed: Two boudn notebooks containing an account similar to "The Shadows Between the Neon".]  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XXIII Letter from Blue Diamond Escort Service to Ms. Cecie Martin, 4/30/2166  
  
Dear Ms. Martin  
  
Enclosed is a package which you sent to our JO-4672. I know that you mean well, but we request that you refrain from sending any more mailings lke this to this unit. It appears to be distracting it from performing its function in serving the needs of our clientele.  
  
Thank you for your time  
  
Sincerely,  
  
[signed]  
  
Ms. Hattie Calvert  
  
[Enclosed: Cecie's last package to Joe, unopened.]  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XXIV Excerpt from Cecie's Diary   
  
May 4, 2166  
  
Frank has agreed to carry a letter to Joe for me. I had the feeling that he wasn't exactly happy about it, but he's too polite to say this out loud, and I know he's the sort who tries to put other people's feelings ahead of his own, even when it costs him.  
  
I have to see Joe soon...  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XXV Letter from Cecie Martin to Joe  
  
Dated May 7, 2166, hand-delivered to Joe by Frank Sweitz  
  
My dearest Joe,  
  
Your owners have forbidden me to write to you, so Frank has agreed to give this letter to you if or when he sees you.  
  
I'll be in Haddonfield around the 10th of this month. I wish it could be sooner, but I've been in mourning. Mr. Flyte, your first owner, lost his fight with prostate cancer and died two weeks ago. Maybe his wasn't the most respectable business, but he was one of the kindest, most noble men I've ever met. I miss him terribly, and I hope and pray that, in spite of his faults, he is in a much better place now.  
  
Sorry if I sound so weepy, but I'm a bit overwhelmed by all that's been going on lately. I wish you were here to dry my eyes and hold me close.  
  
A kiss... a kiss... and again a kiss...  
  
Cecie  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
XXVI Receipt from the Shangri-La Hotel, Haddonfield, NJ  
  
5/10/2166  
  
Room rental: Room 102  
  
Amount paid: 50 NB  
  
---- ---- ---- ---- ----  
  
To be continued... 


	3. Chapter 3 of 3

J.M.J.  
  
TITLE: "Cash on the Barrelhead" -- Part 3 of 3  
  
AUTHOR: "Matrix Refugee"  
  
RATING: PG-13 (subject matter, angst)  
  
ARCHIVE: Permission granted  
  
FEEDBACK: Pleasepleasepleaseplease!  
  
DISCLAIMER: Nope, I don't own "A.I.", which belongs to DreamWorks, Steve, Stan, Warner Brothers, et al. If I had any right to the film, there would be a spin-off TV series of it now.  
  
SUMMARY: Extracts from Frank Sweitz's journal, describing Joe and Cecie's reunion  
  
NOTES: This last chapter was the hardest to write, since it underwent several revisions, which I rarely do with fanfiction... the voice was a challenge to get right. Plus, this fic also references the "A.I." Roleplaying Game also here on Yahoo!, and two fics of mine, specifically my "A.I."/"Minority Report" crossover "The Eyes Have It", and the last of the trio of fics I wrote regarding Henry Swinton, "Thinking the Unthinkable". Hobby tells Henry in "Thinking" that Joe disappeared from the Cybertronics building in Manhatten... but how did Joe disappear...?  
  
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Part Three: Extracts from the journal of Francis J.X. Sweitz  
  
May 9, 2162, 10:02 pm  
  
... Cecie came to visit today, basically just to stop by the apartment to say hello while she was in the area, visiting her old boyfriend. I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit that my heart started to throb when I saw her, and I got a leetle bit jealous. I really should be happy for her, since she was able to reconnect with Joe, but that doesn't stop my heart from aching just a bit since I'll have to share her with him.  
  
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May 10th, 2162, 8:15 pm  
  
Pardon my French, but this entry is likely to contain some strong language: I cuss only when I'm really angry and no one can hear me.  
  
The Goddamned Flesh Fair is here in town and they've hung posters up on the fence around the empty lot across from my apartment house. Consquently, I have them staring me in the face every time I look out the front window. I'm tempted to sneak out in the middle of the night and rip down the god-awful things.  
  
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May 14th, 2162, 6:15 pm  
  
Cecie came by visiting again, briefly, before she met up with Joe. I'd just gone down to meet her at the street door, when I spotted her across the street, calmly taking down the Flesh Fair posters. I told her she was daring, but she just shrugged and said she was doing it to protect Joe and every other Mecha in town.  
  
Yep, you read that right. If you haven't figured it out from earlier entries, Cecie's boyfriend is a Mecha. She's gotten herself in a heap of trouble with her relatives on account of this, but she's happy with him. You'd expect I'd be sore that she's passing over a nice young guy like me and carrying on with a "fibrehead", but she chose Joe and I'd be the last person to try making her choose otherwise.  
  
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May 14th, 2162, 8:15 pm  
  
Later in the day, she came back, asking if it was all right for her to spend the night in my apartment: she doesn't like taking the train into Rouge City this late: she's had some nasty experiences with wierd guys bugging her.  
  
She seemed annoyed, so I asked her what was up. She told me Joe's pager kept going off the whole time they were together, even though they were just talking. She never really had that problem much in Rouge City, but there he was a smaller fish in a bigger pond; he was popular, but there were a lot more Mechas for people there to choose from. This is a small town with less variety, so it's no small wonder that he's constantly on the go. Cecie admits she followed him after he left her for the next rendezvous, followed him back the Mirrored Room, a hotel where Joe's owner has her business.  
  
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May 15th, 2162, 9:13 am  
  
Burnstead called me late last night: he'd gotten a tip that something had gone down at the Shangri-La Hotel, over in the town's red-light district. Cecie was still up, so she begged me to let her come along.  
  
We found the lobby of the hotel jammed with curious people, police officers, people from the SPCB and the homicide unit of the Haddonfield Police Department. Tom Williamson, the part-owner and night clerk of the joint, had found one of the guests, a Ms. Samantha Bevins, lying dead in Room 102, with her throat slashed. Some of the cops were sure the Mecha that had been seen going into her room some time before this discovery had. Of course Cecie asked what Mecha they meant; I almost fainted when they said it was Joe... But Cecie told them it couldn't have been him: she'd been with Joe about an hour before the incident.  
  
I went upstairs to take a look: two detectives met me at the door. One of them, a slightly smart-alecky young guy with red hair, tried to keep me out, but his partner, a dark-haired fellow probably in his forties, but who looked like he was in his thirties, let me in, but he told me "We've already got one reporter in here." I couldn't spot him in amongst all the crime scene people in the room, milling around the bed off to the left.  
  
On the bed lay a beautiful girl in her late teens or early twenties, face down, a real knock-out, a classic brunette beauty with violet eyes like Elizabeth Taylor's. She was gorgeous if you could overlook the gash in the side of her neck and the running puddle of red underneath her.  
  
That's when a light flashed and I looked up to see this short guy in a too-big topcoat with a fedora squashed down on his head, peering through a camera viewfinder. He looked up at me and smiled, giving me a crooked grin I knew well.  
  
"Hey there, Sweitz," he said. It was Hal. Burnstead came in at this point and explained to me that Hal was working for him now, that it had to do with some deal Hal made with the SPCB.  
  
So far, no one has been arrested in this case. But they better not have any funny ideas about Joe. He couldn't do something like this.  
  
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May 15th, 2162, 11:15 am  
  
The cops found Joe's license tag in an alleyway not far from the Shangri-La, but no sign of Joe. They're guessing he may be hiding in the woods. Cecie, who stayed over last night, is nervous now: the Flesh Fair's in Barn Creek and there's no telling what may happen to him now, since they tend to capture any stray Mechas that they run across.  
  
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May 15th, 2162, 1.03 pm  
  
Now there's news that some kid Mecha ran astray; it seems that one of the big companies was having somebody beta-test a new model, and the prototype got lost in the woods somehow. That makes two missing Mechas Burnstead's busy looking for.  
  
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May 15th, 2162, 4.30 pm  
  
Just been interviewing the people who lost the kid Mecha. Unfortunately, now that company that made the kid Mecha has put a gag rule on the press, though Hal told me I can refer to it here in this journal, as "Slobbertronics". It's quite a human interest story -- a lonely mom with a son in cryostorage, a child-Mecha to cheer her up, the flesh and blood kid getting better and coming home -- but I can't print a word of it anywhere.  
  
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May 15th, 2162, 6.18 pm  
  
Hal managed to get him and I an interview with Frazer Bevins, Samantha's father. I feel bad for the guy: his only daughter, the only family he has left, has been killed and he's desperate to find out who did it. But then Hal and I got a look at the books on the shelves in his living room... there's more to this case than meets the eye. I think he set our boy up.  
  
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May 15th, 2162, 11.15 pm  
  
Now there was a riot at the Flesh Fair: turns out that the kid-Mecha and Joey-boy got caught by the Hounds -- now whoever's reading this, please don't get excited, it's not what you think. They're both fine: in fact, they escaped. I spoke with a woman who'd been there. She says the kid-Mecha started begging the Flesh Fair goons not to burn him, so she stood up and told the ringmaster to let the kid go, that he was just a boy. The crowd attacked the ringmaster, and in the middle of it all, someone unchained Joe and the kid from the torture contraption they'd been tied to. Last time anyone saw them, Joe and his little buddy were running off into the woods.  
  
Cecie deduced that Joe probably headed for Rouge City. So... we're off to see if we can catch up with him.  
  
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May 16th, 2162, 3:20 am  
  
Ouch...  
  
We barely got back to the apartment alive. The SPCB traced Joe to Rouge City, so the police there tried picking him up. They were literally in tha act of arresting Joe when we showed up on Main Plaza. I had to restrain Cecie, to keep her from going after the cops and getting herself in trouble. But someone, maybe a CRF agent, I don't know swiped an amphibicopter and took off with Joe... welll, took off with him after making the 'copter lurch around the Plaza, sending everyone scattering and knocking over the transport containing Joe. Hal got some exclusive shots of the pandemonium: He's analyzing them just now, and from what he can see, the kid Mecha stole the copter.  
  
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May 16th, 2162, 1:45 pm  
  
Burnstead called just now: they traced Joe and the kid Mecha to Manhatten and the Slobbertronics (Gad, I hate writing that name like that) facility there. Slobbertronics's private police-force of sorts (they're a little more sophisticated than plain old security guards) picked up Joe and is holding him for questioning/cube analysis. Joe's in the corporation building somewhere... but no one can tell us anything yet. And Cecie is utterly beside herself: nervous, angry, sad... relieved... She wants to go there and find him, but there's no way anyone can get into that building unauthorized.  
  
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May 18th, 2162, 7:38 pm  
  
Hal's on to something: Years and years ago, he and a hacker friend of his, who'd "gone white-hat" (ie, stopped hacking computers for the heck of it and went into working as a computer security analyst) helped the company that's holding Joe test the SmartSecure system in the Manhatten building. He's planning on tapping into the security system and seeing if he can't pinpoint Joe's exact location. Now Cecie has some grand scheme to apply there for work, as a janitor or something, and use that as a way to get Joe out. Hal reminded her that this company makes janitor Mechas: she'd never pass. So she argued, "Maybe I can disguise myself as a Mecha", though in her next sentence, she realized the implausibility of that stunt.  
  
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May 21st, 2162, 9.09 pm  
  
"Well, that beats the hell out of me", were Hal's words after scanning a certain place's SmartSecure system. He searched every room that had a camera, every room except Room 323: no sign of Joe anywhere. His guess is that Joe is in Room 323, and security on that building is so tight, a fly can't even creep in under a door without being detected. I don't like the sound of that one bit. So you can only imagine how desperate Cecie is. In her words: "If Joe were surrounded by pieces of broken glass on the floor, I'd crawl over it without my clothes on, just to get to him!"  
  
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Entries from May 21st, 2162 to August 28th, 2163 excised for brevity and relevance.  
  
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August 28th, 2162, 1.03 pm  
  
It's been a while since I updated last on the saga of Cecie and Joe. She got more deeply involved with the CRF, but she parted ways with them in a manner of speaking. It seems the "Coalition for Robotic Freedom" was involved with some wierd experiments on Mecha memory cubes. And Cecie being who she is, she couldn't stay involved with a group that had done that even though it claimed to be doing it in the name of science, and especially in light of the fact that they otherwise have claimed to be trying to help Mechas.  
  
I can't say much about them, since they're a bit on the secretive side, but she's gotten involved with the RLF, the Robotic Liberation Front, a group which has similare convictions as the CRF, but without the hypocrisy. They kinda split off from the CRF for reasons a lot similar to Cecie's reasons for pulling away from the CRF. In fact, they've had a hand in helping some Mechas escape from imminent torture and destruction in some of these research labs.  
  
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August 30th, 2162, 4.03 pm  
  
It's official! The David and Darlene line of Mechas from Cybertronics goes up for adoption today! They're hosting a big shindig at the New Jersey plant, up in Camden. And guess who gets to cover the story? Right! Sweitz and McGeever. I've specifically gotten the assignment to interview Dr. Allen Hobby himself. Hot dog!!! Cecie wanted to come along, but she started fuming about Hobby holding Joe, so we both decided it was better she stayed home, much as I'd love to have her along for the trip.  
  
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September 1st, 2162, 6.03 pm  
  
You'll never guess just who I saw today at the Cybertronics shindig....  
  
No less than our Joe in the silicon. It seems that Hobby has been holding Joe as a personal assistant. Joe might seem content with his place, but when I spoke to him alone for a moment, he asked me how Cecie was doing. I told him she misses him dreadfully and that she'd give her right arm just to see him again. He gave me his email address and asked me to give it to her, that she could contact him any time she needed to. I made a promise to him that I would give it to her; that seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders.  
  
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September 2nd, 2163, 9:05 pm  
  
Cecie was relieved to hear that Joe's doing well, but she sure got angry when she heard Hobby's keeping him. In her words: "That man can have any Mecha he wants, or build any Mecha that he needs; why does he have to pocket Joe?!" I felt bad for her: she's come this far trying to get Joe back, once their paths had finally crossed, now this had to hit her high up unde the ribs where it hurts.  
  
She's a good girl who deserves a lucky break once in a while. This is one of those times.  
  
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September 10th, 2162, 11:07 pm  
  
The RLF had a few tricks up its sleeve, regarding Joe. Cecie's supposed to be going with them on some kind of mission to Cybertronics. I never saw her doing the action heroine thing, but there again, she and Joe and I pulled off that hero stunt in Rouge City when that murderous Mecha was on the lam.  
  
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September 14th, 2162, 10:09 am  
  
I can't go with her on this mission. I'm really not on the inside track, and for another thing. . .  
  
I'm still in love with Cecie.  
  
She had feelings for me at one point, but she herself slowed down the relationship; I have to respect that, as painful as it is. She admitted to me that part of her feels as if she cheated on Joe when she and he were seperated and she started turning towards me. And there's that little voice that tries to insinuate itself into my head, asking me, "What's the matter with you? why are you letting her throw you, a flesh and blood man, over for a mere living toy like him?"  
  
All I can do is swallow my pride and stand by her in spirit as she goes out tonight to do what has to be done...  
  
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September 17th, 2162, 7:54 pm  
  
I got a call from Cecie, in Rouge City, first thing this morning. I figured once they freed Joe, they'd have snuck over the border into Canada, where Mechas have a lot more rights than they do here in the States, but Rouge City is such a crazy place, anyone can hide there. And there's so many Mechas, Joe would blend right in. Best place to hide something is in plain sight, and the "Silicon Babylon" of the east coast can't be any plainer sight if you're a lover-Mecha.  
  
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September 19th, 2162, 1:03 am  
  
Cecie and Joe came by this evening: he's been re-licensed to her. She tells me the RLF has a contact on the Rouge City Mecha Licensing Registrar, Aristide Schindler; let's say he has a practise of straightening out flooky licensing records for some Mechas...  
  
I've asked Cecie what she plans to do next; she says she's going to find a room in Rouge City where she and Joe can settle down. They still have a few little things to work out first, but they have each other now.  
  
Hal came by as well. I've got a funny feeling he had something to do with the big escape, since he was kidding Cecie about "the romantic snatch-and-grab rescue of the dark gentleman locked in the tower", but I can't get him to tell me about it. Maybe he's not at liberty to say anything. After his involvement in the great Mecha Massacre a couple years back, I found it a little odd that he'd be helping rescue a Mecha, but his prison sentence probably made him start thinking a little differently. Then again, he was dropping hints about some Mecha-manufacturing corporation getting what was coming to it.  
  
Cecie tells me that she and Joe spent the last three days getting reacquainted. I won't say he's like the same old Joe: he seems a little sadder, but a lot wiser from his experiences. I thought I'd test this just a little, so while Hal and I were washing the supper dishes, I put on one of my old jazz records, "Moonlight Serenade", the song the band played for the last dance from my wedding reception.  
  
Joe's ears pricked up at the tune. "I remember that song," he said, his eyes going to Cecie's face. He stood up and bowed to her, asking her if he could have this dance? She stood up and let him draw her close to him... And for a moment, I was back three years, spotting Cecie and Joe on the dancefloor at Bernie and my wedding party  
  
They ended up staying the night in the guest room. Hal spent the night as well, on the couch in my room. He said something odd to me, but then again, he likes asking odd questions:  
  
Hal: "Why isn't it buggin' you that Joe's back with Cecie?"  
  
Me: "He's in his rightful place with someone who cares about him, not what he can do for her."  
  
H: "Yeah, but didn't you take a shine to Cecie?"  
  
Me: "Yes, but that was a while back."  
  
H: "I take it that means you're over her."  
  
Me: "No, not really... but if you really love someone, you want them to be happy. And if she's happy with Joe and he's happy with her, I'm happy for them both."  
  
Hal fell silent; I realized he'd dozed off. After a few minutes, I got up and went to the guest bedroom to check on our two lovebirds.  
  
They lay snuggled together under the bedcovers, Cecie with her head against Joe's chest, fast asleep. As I got closer, Joe looked up at me, his eyes tracking before he lifted his head to look right at me. He smiled up at me and laid a finger over his lips, asking for quiet. I reached down and laid one hand on Cecie's head, the other on Joe's shoulder before I turned and went out, leaving them to their contented reunion.  
  
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September 21st, 2162, 4:03 pm  
  
... Joe and Cecie called, just to chit-chat. They told me that Cecie intends to write a book about him and David, the little Mecha-child who saved Joe's brain (It's safe to mention the little guy's name now, since Cybertronics is releasing this new line of Mechas). I'm looking forward to reading that... It'd make a great movie!  
  
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The End.... and a new beginning....  
  
AFTERWORD: I'm starting to draft the next segment of the "Cecie Martin" series, currently going by the working title "Rouge City Rising". I'm writing it in the form of the script for a manga, and since ff.n won't allow script format fics, I'll be archiving this next one on the AIFFOA, as well as posting it here. If there's anyone who's an artist who'd be interested in drawing the artwork for this,  
let me know and I'll send you the drafts of the chapters. Right now,  
it's playing like a cross between (of all things) Max Allen Collin (of "Road to Perdition" fame) and CLAMP (who wrote the "Chobits"  
series, which remains one of my favorite manga/graphic novels). 


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